


No It's Not Camping

by brokenEisenglas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cap_Ironman Holiday Gift Exchange 2018, M/M, Proclamations of love, avengers 1 compliant, cabin in the mountains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:23:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenEisenglas/pseuds/brokenEisenglas
Summary: Steve and Tony go on a much needed Christmas vacation. They may just be getting more in their stockings than they had originally thought.





	No It's Not Camping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tony_starkrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tony_starkrogers/gifts).



Feather light footsteps and a quiet creak of weight against the doorframe alert Tony to another person’s presence before their voice has a chance to startle him.

“So, you guys are going camping for Christmas.” It’s not a question, so Tony doesn’t deem a response.

In his room, he finishes stuffing his suitcase with clothes and hygiene supplies just as Clint intrudes in the doorway. Clint chugs a soda as he twirls an arrow, pretending not to watch Tony out of the corner of his eye.

Tony zips the bag, hoping that Clint didn’t see much of the more unmentionables.

He’s been waiting for Steve to return.  It’s early morning, so, Tony knows that he’s out getting a run in before they load the jet. There is a few hours of sitting involved in this trip that they’ve been planning on and off for months now; a trip where every time they’ve gone to pack and prepare there has been an emergency: Avengers Alerts, SHIELD ops, impromptu SI meetings, or the occasional personal (team, really) matter. Honestly, it’s probably far over due for he and Steve to have time away.

Clint belches.

Definitely over due.

“You even know how to pitch a tent?”

Tony rolls his eyes and sighs, “Don’t you have somewhere better to be, Barton?”

It’s been like this the last few weeks. With all the demands, the stunted plans, and the general air of the season, Tony’s found himself really wishing for a vacation. A true vacation. Time away from the stresses of work and Avenging, SHIELD and the required general schmoozing. Tony… just wants to spend time with Steve.

Clint shrugs. He’s moved into the doorway, setting the empty drink on top of an end table by Tony’s room’s entrance.

Since the battle with Loki, Tony has had the Tower remodeled. The penthouse no longer houses Tony’s quarters alone, rather, it acts as the larger communal area and escape. It’s a convenient launch and landing space for the team and the jets and has its own compartments for gear and supplies, as well as armor assembly, and decontamination.

Thus, why Tony now has bird in his window, as a matter of speaking.

Clint fiddles with the arrow some more, disassembling its components and placing them on the same little table as the drink. He’s considering, Tony thinks. He looks like he wants to ask something but isn’t sure.

Tony doesn’t really have the patience for this right now.

“Hack it up, Hoot. You’re making me queasy just watching you. What is it?”

If the look Clint gives him reminds Tony of an angry fowl, Tony doesn’t say anything. He really just needs to get the man to talk.

“I was wondering if I should ask if the family could visit, but now I think I’ll just fly them in anyway.”

Family?

“I thought about heading out to them but thought they might like to see the city this year. Kids are old enough and Laura hasn’t been here in years, which is a bit of a shame seeing she’s—“

“Wait, wait. Pause a minute.” The words replay in his head over again, and Tony’s confusion grows. His momentary lapse of attention leaves him unaware of Steve’s arrival when Tony asks, “You’re roosted?”

Steve snorts loud enough to make Tony jump.

“Fucking hell, Stark,” Clint groans at the same time that Tony shouts, “Jesus, Cap!”

Steve’s still laughing when Tony’s calmed down enough to look at Clint who’s still glaring at Tony like he should be burning alive and Tony too finally laughs.

“Yeah. Funny. You’re both so funny.” Clint grumbles. “So, can my chicks nest or what?”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Their bags are packed and loaded, and the team has rushed them out the door on their goodbyes, Thor guaranteeing their continued vigilance while Natasha lightly reassured them that they wouldn’t be called in for anything less than the apocalypse.

Very reassuring, that one.

Now, Tony focuses on Nav stats and flight chatter while Steve verifies their cabin rental check-in and parking, never minding that Tony has already run personal and regional backgrounds in his paranoia about the Quinjet and their continued safety. Just because he wants a relaxing few days of vacation with Steve for Christmas doesn’t mean he’ll get it. In fact, he expects not even forty-eight hours of reprieve before emergency call-in. Just _being_ Tony Stark damn near guarantees wreck and ruin.

“Do you think we should have gone camping?”

Tony loves Steve. Unconditionally. He really does…

But, sometimes, he really just doesn’t know how to handle the man.

“Did you want to pack and plan to freeze your balls off instead of being able to walk around stark naked and to have extremely gratuitous amounts of hot steamy sex?”

Tony glances over at Steve to find him nodding amicably, chewing on what smells like from this distance winter fresh gum.

“Point.”

They have four hours before they’ll find themselves at their destination. Four hours of flight that, if Tony has JARVIS pilot, he and Steve can use to do something far more… exciting. He’s not really needed except for the landing; he still hasn’t fixed the glitch in the program. He blames Clint, because he can.

The trail of fingers along the back of his neck and across his shoulders makes him shiver.

Seems like someone else had the same idea.

“Hey there, Mr. Pilot Sir. Mind if I have a moment of your time?” Steve whispers into his ear, that drawl nearly guaranteeing whatever he desires from Tony, and Steve knows it. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Blood shoots to his dick as Steve licks the curve of his ear, sucking on the lobe before moving down the side of his neck. Wet lips suck along the sensitive skin of his neck, nerves prickling with anticipation. Steve’s blows cool minty scented breath across the damp left in his wake.

He sets the autopilot and leans back to allow his lover better access.

Steve hums as he rubs his nose along the sensitive juncture of Tony’s neck and shoulder.

“You always smell so good.” A large hand runs fingers through short loose brunette curls, tugging lightly on the locks. Tony allows Steve control of his movement, pliant to the touch. “Look at you. So good. Always so good for me.” Those wet rosy lips press promisingly on the sensitive V.

“I love the way you taste.”

He cries out when teeth bite down. It’s so good. The warmth pooled in his stomach brought so quickly to a rolling boil. He can already feel the sticking of his wetting boxers under tight jeans, precum coating the fabric. It’d be uncomfortable if he could think of anything besides the teeth at his throat and the hand tugging his hair and the promise of more _more more_ when Steve takes his other hand and lifts the button-down shirt, ghosting smooth fingers across Tony’s soft stomach, downwards, and—

“Oh _fuck_!” Steve sucks, hard, and Tony falls to pieces. He’s crying, literally, tears running down his face, chest arching up, fingers digging into the leather fabric hard enough to turn the knuckles white and bulge his biceps, and he can’t focus, because Steve’s marking him and his hand is unbuttoning his pants, and pulling on his leaking throbbing cock and, “ _Sssteeeevvve_ , fffff-uuuhhhhhmmmmm….”

He almost cums when Steve starts humming. The hand on his cock prevents that from happening.

“Oh my, fuck.”

He wants. Thor, Odin, and all the Norse gods above he wants. He wants so badly. He wants to cum. He wants to wait. He wants more, more friction, more pressure, more feeling. He wants Steve. His touch everywhere, all at once. His cock in his mouth, the weight of it on his tongue, filling his throat, cumming. He wants to suck Steve dry. He wants to take his dick and fill his throat and make the man cum again and again until there’s nothing left, and then, he wants to rut against Steve’s leg, shaking with the need for release, to follow Steve’s own pleasure. He wants to cum untouched, or on command. Or both. However, Steve wants it.

But, he wants it.

He wants Steve.

“Suck me.”

And, Steve fucking knows it.

“Ohmygod, yes.” Hands release and Tony’s moving before he’s really aware of how fast his body is spinning, and he’s catching himself on Steve’s arms held out, and Tony’s pushing him back into the copilot seat, and falling to his knees, because he really needs this. He needs this so bad. And, Steve deserves this. He deserves the best, the best of everything. The best that Tony can give. “Please, yes. God, Steve.”

Usually dexterous hands fumble with belt, buttons, and zip, and he’s so damn hungry. There’s too much in the way, god, please, and Steve’s lifting his hips to allow Tony to pull his pants down slightly below his ass, and Steve’s _not wearing underwear_ , “Thank you, Thor,” and Steve is laughing. Says something about how Thor isn’t to thank, watch what you say. “Yes, sir,” Tony responds on rote because, yessiree, damn right. Steve is the one to thank, and Tony is going to worship this man’s dick like it’s the bringer of life and rain.

When he wraps his lips around Steve’s glorious hot member, it’s like the first drink after days of thirst in a desert you were never meant to be lost in.

Tony moans as Steve pushes slightly forward.

“It’s been too long,” he says. Tony agrees. Wholeheartedly. They’ve not had time lately for this. Weeks without actually.

Steve lightly thrusts again.

The spit pools in his mouth, dribbling down from the sides of his lips as he lets Steve guide him.

Even if they only get twenty-four hours, Tony knows it’s gonna be a damn good one.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The cabin they fly to is in the literal definition of the middle of nowhere.

Bumfuck nowhere.

“Welp, this is exciting,” he claps his hands and smiles. He can feel Steve’s mirth like rays behind him. One large hand settles on his lower back as the rest of Steve’s body follows and molds itself to Tony’s. “I’ve already looked at the place, but, now I’m beginning to wonder if they lied about electric and water. I mean, not that I’m complaining. I love smelling like fresh sweat and sex for days, but, I do worry that it might get to being a little uncomfortable.”

Tony loves the smile he feels Steve get against his hair.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Tony agrees.

They take their entire luggage inside. The cabin is quite nice. The front porch door opens into a well furnished and cozy living room, perfectly sized for keeping warm with a mid-sized fireplace. From there to the left there is a kitchen, large enough for there to be a table for two in the far corner, and room for motion for a functioning morning routine. Above the sink, the little window opens out upon a mountainside view, and through the nearly leaf-less branches, the woods and valley beyond appear. It’s stunning, if Tony is honest. A reminder of the naturally remote wilderness.

From the living room straight back, there is a small hallway with a linen closet at the end, an attached bathroom to the right, and in the other direction, a single bedroom. Tony follows this path to find that the bedroom is connected directly to the bathroom, and is pleased by the discovery. There is something comforting about knowing it’s easily accessible without having to fare against possibly chilly nights down the halls.

The bags they carry have little in them. Steve unpacks most of his stuff into one of the drawers. Tony notices that he doesn’t remove quite everything from the luggage, and wonders if Steve had some of the same ideas.

Time away from the kids and all that, why not have some frisky fun?

“You mind going to see if the kitchen has been stocked?” Steve asks. He looks like he wants to hide something, or, not hide something. Rather, he wants to preserve a surprise.

Tony loves Steve’s surprises for him.

“Sure. Any requests?”

Steve smiles, “Surprise me.”

Yep, definitely a surprise.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Tony had let Steve organize the amenities, he wasn’t sure what all to expect.

Steve grew up in the Great Depression. His perceptions and treatments of living expenses and amenities have been historically known to be very different than Tony’s own. Not to say that Tony isn’t aware of poverty and its effects on the human psyche, but he has never experienced extreme or even moderate poverty firsthand. Steve cherishes and appreciates the subtle and mundane far more than Tony. He doesn’t spend extravagantly, and has only recently become even slightly accustomed to the idea of not going without.

Tony would rather go bankrupt and lose everything he has if it prevents Steve from going without ever again.

So, with this idea in mind of Steve’s particular awareness of waste and worry, Tony is surprised when he starts opening cabinets and they’re filled.

They’re _all_ filled.

There seems to be a bit of everything. Pastas, breads, pastries. Canned goods and sauces. Spices and oils and additives. The fridge, too, is stocked to the brim. Fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats, ice cream, toppings…

There is _so much_.

“Are we feeding an army while we’re here?” Tony yells.

There’s some shuffling in the bedroom and a cha-clunk sound, and Tony knows Steve has heard him even if he hasn’t verbally responded.

Instead of continuing to pester him, Tony starts pulling food for sandwiches. Nothing special, but definitely filling. He’s in the middle of cutting the French bread loaf for toasting, when strong arms wrap around his waist and golden hair shines in the corner of his eye.

Steve’s constant desire for physical touch is so endearing. Tony has a theory that it’s a mix of Steve’s 30’s raising, wartime experiences, and the first isolating days of his life in the twenty-first century.

Tony never wants him to stop.

“I eat a lot when I’ve been working out.”

The statement takes a moment to set before it clicks.

Normally, Tony wouldn’t be embarrassed. Which, he isn’t.

He’s just extremely turned on.

The length of arousal at his ass says Steve is, too.

He’s glad to make the meal worthwhile.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

They’re post-lunchtime sex and crackers agenda leads them on a short hike on the more obvious of the trails around the home. The air is crisp and the leaves crunch beneath their boots as little animals scamper and scatter while they hike.

They map that was left in the cabin with them showed some local sightseeing. Streams and caves, trails and lookouts, they have a lot of options at hand, and, despite general assumptions, Tony does actually enjoy the occasional adventure outdoors.

“We should plan a trip to the Alps, soon.” He says, hopping over a downed log. Steve does the same behind him, but far quieter and with far better agility, of course. “Beautiful glacial lakes and streams. Or, maybe, we go south. Amazon trip.”

“I’ve been to the Alps. Could take you some of the places I’ve been.”

Sometimes, not often, Tony forgets how old Steve actually is, despite his youth. He forgets what Steve has experienced or where he’s been.

“I’ve got a few stories that you might like.”

“I like all your stories.” Steve’s always conscious of how the others on the team respond to his ramblings. His experiences predate even Tony, as Clint would say. Thor would just point out how his own predate the modern world. “I’d love it.” Tony wants Steve to feel comfortable talking to him about his past, the good, bad, and the ugly.

A spin and a kiss on the lips, and Steve whispers, “I know you would. You do.” Then, he’s stepping past Tony and taking the lead, and Tony just wants him to do it again. Many times. Any time.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The sun’s going down and they’ve made it back to the cabin. Steve is starting a fire as Tony warms soup for dinner, making a few sandwiches for Steve on the side, and the scene is so domestic that Tony has to stop.

He wonders when they reached this point, this balance of the extreme and the mundane that the home experience could feel so… normal.

After New York, the other Avengers had agreed to move into the Tower, especially once the remodeling had finished. Thor promised to return once he had taken Loki to Asgard while Natasha and Steve agreed to return between SHIELD missions. Bruce moved-in right away, for which Tony was grateful. His relationship with Pepper, post-Invasion, stopped. She moved to the Malibu mansion, shifting the SI headquarters to Cali, and Tony continued his work and research in New York. This worked for the business, but the rest would have to wait.

Then, Clint randomly showed up mid-cleanup of the new residential floor, threw his bags into a room, and called dibs.

Thus, Avengers’ Tower was born.

Well, that’s the short of it anyway.

Two months into boarding school and Tony remembers he and Steve at each other’s throats one moment, and Tony lain flat on his back on a cracked glass communal table looking at crystalline azure eyes begging to be fucked harder, faster, _come on, soldier, is that the best you can do._

Clint insisted on eye bleach jokes for weeks.

Thor just fist-bumped Tony and Natasha kissed Steve’s cheek, and said, “It’s about time.”

Six months later and here they are. Team dinners and movie nights, subtle touches and late night sex marathons, and they’ve become a picture of domesticity that Tony never thought he’d ever have, and now…

Now, he doesn’t ever want to let it go.

He realizes he’s staring at Steve, and quickly averts his eyes.

 _Later_ , he thinks.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Surprisingly, they don’t get interrupted within the first twenty-four hours. Nor the next twelve. Thirty-six hours into their five day Christmas vacation, Tony receives a message from Rhodey asking if he’s got some time to work on the War Machine armor, and Tony feels obligated to say yes, that he can do it as soon as they make it home, give them a few hours, but Steve politely asks for and takes the phone from him, goes to the other room, and Tony doesn’t worry about it because Steve won’t let Rhodey go without. When the phone is given back to him, Rhodey asks how things are going, wishes him a great trip, and asks if the second will work for Tony despite being so soon after coming home, and Tony agrees, and that’s that.

Steve shows just how very proud he is of Tony for what Steve calls his “self-care” in the form of a mind-blowing rim job and riding Tony until they’re both begging for release and Steve is taking Tony’s cum, milking him with his muscles alone, and then cums across Tony’s chest, licking the mess away before it can become sticky and gross.

“Fuck. Let me at least taste you,” Tony demands, begs really.

Steve gladly obliges.

This may be the best vacation ever.

Tony never wants to let this go.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He really doesn’t want to let this go.

They’ve gone hiking at least a little every day. Along the way, they’ve taken photographs of anything and everything of interest. Tony’s even brought along a Polaroid and refills in his pack for Steve’s pleasure.

“Tony… Where—where did you get this?” He says as artist’s hands caress the coveted equipment.

“You like?”

Steve definitely liked. The scratches left on his back and shoulders from where he’d been leaned against the tree earlier itch.

“You are massaging hydrocortisone into every itchy pore when we get back; I swear it to Odin’s beard.” Semi-public forest sex may sound like a great option, Tony thinks, but the consequences may just outweigh the experience. “If I get poison ivy in places where the sun don’t shine, I’m gonna put hair dye in your shampoo in micro doses, and I’m going to leave it when we shower, and you won’t notice because I won’t tell you. And, it’ll look awful. As awful as I’ll be feeling.”

Steve chuckles low and silly, knowing in a way that Tony thinks should get under his skin but actually just makes him roll his eyes and smile.

Tony thinks this may be love.

He panics.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Returning to the cabin, Tony rushes straight to the bathroom. He locks the hall door, forgetting about the bedroom entry, and strips. He scrubs so much that the skin burns.

The sound of the door opening is drowned by the panting of his near hyperventilating breaths.

Pale arms wrap around his chest and ease him to the tub floor; the solid body behind him hums with noise and energy, guiding him back down to an acceptable level of stress.

“I don’t know what caused it,” Steve starts, “but I want you to know that you can tell me. I won’t… I don’t think any less of you. And, I just want you to feel like you can tell me. That if you need me, you know I’ll be there.”

They sit under the cooling shower of water as Tony finally calms. He knows why he panicked. Really, he does. Years of losing the things he cares about, of having his world transformed through loss and betrayal and the challenge of his own understandings, he understands logically why he’d panic.

It doesn’t explain emotionally why he’s struggling.

“I’ll always be there.” Steve mumbles into his back. “As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be there.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I love you.”

It’s their last hour before leaving. They’ve packed their bags, cleaned out the kitchen, and thrown the laundry together into trash bags for easy pick-up.

Steve’s been hovering from a distance, his worry evident in his extreme caution.

Now, however, he stands so close to Tony that Tony wonders if he should have waited to say anything until they got back to the tower.

“I love you, and I don’t know if you love me, too, and I’m afraid to lose you.”

Steve looks like a man with everything on the line, fear and hope warring on pristine perfection.

“That’s why I panicked.”

The silence that follows could kill a man, much like how Tony feels it’s doing to him. Steve could say anything right now. He could end this, all of it, with just a few words. He could leave. Could say he can never feel the same, or laugh and point and tell Tony that he fell for it, this elaborate joke of an experience. Call him a sissy or a fag and move on. Or, he could just say that Tony isn’t it, isn’t the one for him. _Sorry, but, I can’t handle you. You’re too much, not enough, old, outdate, useless, worthless—_

“Don’t move.”

Whatever he thought Steve would say, it wasn’t this. Steve’s run to the bags by the front door and started tearing the luggage apart. Their dirty laundry flies across the porch, aired for the world to see, and Tony blushes to think about what is on those, and Steve really should be putting those back as soon as possible, because the owners are on their way and Steve is ignoring the fabric all over. He shouldn’t do that, Tony thinks and starts forward to help cleanup when he realizes that Steve is in front of him and starting to drop a knee onto the floor, but their dirty lingerie is everywhere, and—

“I wasn’t sure. And, I’ve tried to think of a thousand things to say…”

What?

“And, of all the things I can say. Or, rather, the things I should say, one thing has been made most clear…”

The fuck?

“Tony Stark. I am in love with you.”

Oh.

“And, I would very much like to ask you, if you love me, too… Would you marry me?”

Steve loves him. He… he loves him back.

This really is the best vacation ever.

Tony smiles.

“Yes… yeah.”


End file.
